


Aviophobia, Aviophilia

by Yalu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety, Community: love bingo, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, PWP, Phobias, Smut, Wingfic, aviophobia (fear of flying)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-15 15:39:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yalu/pseuds/Yalu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It started as a way to get Dean over his fear of flying.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Dean and Castiel join the Mile High Club.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Aviophobia, Aviophilia

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [love_bingo](http://love-bingo.livejournal.com) Round Three. Prompt: Mile High Club.
> 
> SO much thanks to Trojie for beta reading. I haven't written smut in ages.
> 
> The title should translate to "Fear of flying, love of flying"  
> 

It started as a way to get Dean over his fear of flying.

"Forget it, Cas - _no_ , no _way_."

"Should you ever be in a sufficiently perilous situation, flight may be the only way I'll have to save you. And Sam. If you panic it will complicate my efforts to remove us from danger."

It only got off the ground because of promises.

"Three pizzas, my choice of porno and a night somewhere snazzy enough that no cleaning ladies will walk in on us. You _owe_ me."

"I will make sure we are not interrupted again."

It failed because Cas was hot, and because Dean needed a distraction.

Seeing Cas' wings never, ever got old. They were huge and white and totally... pure. Like they'd never been near war or blood or death or Purgatory. Like everything was good and was always going to be good. And whatever Dean's face must look like every time he saw them always made Castiel smile this really soft, warm smile, and it was so irresistible Dean always ended up kissing him. Cas would pull his wings in close to wrap around them, and there was a really fresh, really _clean_ smell in those feathers that made Dean's head fuzzy. And got him hard.

Needless to say, all the other times he'd seen Cas' wings, they'd been on their backs not long after. Flying was never on the menu.

This time Cas reined in the smile and kept his wings stretched out wide. They were as far out into the middle of nowhere as Dean had ever been - a forest reserve in Washington - and the sun was setting behind them. Cas had promised that this was the best time for practice as human eyes would miss them in the dimness of dusk. Dean was just glad it would make it harder for him to see how far it was to the ground.

Cas waited patiently at the edge of the huge lake Dean had insisted they practice over. "I trust your reflexes, man, I do, but I'll feel a hell of a lot better if I'm not over something that'll make me go splat." (Cas pointed out that, from sufficient height, a fall onto water was just as deadly. Dean already knew.) Dean walked back and forth on the muddy bank, taking deep breaths and letting them out again just as fast.

Step, step, slosh, breathe in, breathe out- No, can't do it. He groaned and shook his head. "Cas, I'm sorry."

Castiel stretched a wing out to curve around Dean's shoulders. The touch of feathers was relaxing, and he let Cas draw him closer. "I promise you will be completely safe."

Dean let out a heavy breath and tried to force down the rolling knots in his stomach. His hands trembled until he made fists, and Cas gently reached out to touch them. He slid his thumbs over the backs of Dean's wrists, a very light touch, until the muscles relaxed and he could slide his fingers into Dean's palms. Holding both his hands Castiel said, "Please trust me."

And damn if that didn't get to him. Dean closed his eyes and squeezed Cas' hands, then nodded sharply before he could change his mind. "What do I do?"

"Stay still and calm," said Cas, moving to stand behind him. "I will carry you and fly us very low over the water. You will not need to hold on to be secure."

As Cas slid his arms around Dean's torso, one under his arms and one over his belly, Dean twisted his neck to look back sceptically. "You sure you can hold me? Jimmy was no bodybuilder. And what about my legs - am I just gonna dangle?"

"My grace will bind your body to me. I only need a small area of physical contact to make the connection, as I did when I lifted you from Hell." The parts of his wings still in view moved up and down a little, like a shrug. "I thought you would find this comforting."

Dean looked down at the sleeves of the trenchcoat coiled around him. "Comforting. Yeah."

Castiel swept his wings back out of Dean's sight and flapped them once, twice, and the gust of air made branches shake on the nearest pine trees. As his feet lifted off the ground Dean scrambled to grab Cas' arms and he clung to them, fingers jabbing into muscles as they moved forward over the water.

Dean could see his reflection. It was too far away to touch, but if he'd really been hanging there he'd have been able to skim the water with his boot. Turns out Cas wasn't kidding - Dean's legs stayed horizontal, keeping his entire body in a more or less straight line, just like Cas' above him, and in the water they looked like they were lying flat on top of each other on a cloudy bed, toes stretched out toward an invisible headboard. The setting sun to one side glinted off the water in bright specks that made Cas' wings seem to sparkle as they glided above the surface.

It took a minute before Dean realised they were half a mile from the shore. It was a _fricking big_ lake. When he did realise he tensed up again, having never noticed that he'd relaxed, and above him Castiel chuckled faintly. "Shut up," Dean muttered.

"I'm going to take us higher now," Cas told him, and that was all the warning he gave before another one, two, three powerful flaps of his wings lifted them _way_ higher than should be possible in one go and then stretched out to glide again. Dean watched his reflection shrink down to the size of a shoe, then a fingernail, and started wheezing. He could feel his lungs spasming in his chest and a sudden light-headedness until Cas leaned down and breathed into his ear, "It's all right, Dean. I have you. You're safe." His lips grazed the edge of Dean's ear. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Dean sucked in a breath, ragged but deep, and let it out without shaking too badly - maybe only half his bones got rattled. His stomach was still lodged somewhere in his throat so it wasn't like the cramps could get any worse. His grip on Castiel's wrists was still white-knuckled. He didn't trust himself to say anything. The wind would have stolen it anyway.

Cas had been turning them in a slow, wide arc to follow the southern bank of the lake, so now the sun was behind them and when Dean managed to look up from the water, the landscape ahead glimmered gold. For half a second he thought, _If this is what Cas gets to see when he flies it is so worth it,_ but then his brain worked out that those little spiky toothpicks were the hundred-year-old trees they'd been standing under and he squeaked.

Yeah, squeaked. If Sam had been there he'd have laughed his ass off. Fricking Sam wasn't scared of heights. Probably not in the sasquatch job description.

Dean held on, closed his eyes, and prayed Cas would decide this was enough, but Cas obviously decided to ignore that one. Without moving his iron-bar arms he stretched his fingers and lightly stroked them as soothingly as possible through the clothes over Dean's ribs and hip. It didn't actually help and Dean sarcastically prayed that he do something more effective.

Castiel shifted the arm around Dean's waist - he wasn't wrong about the grace binding them; Dean didn't move at all, held tight like Cas had his own gravity - and slipped his fingers under the waistband of Dean's jeans. Just the tips, lightly tracing the skin of Dean's belly, and of _course_ he'd do that; it was one thing that always turned Dean on no matter how bad a day it had been. It was turning him on now. He breathed easier. "That works," he muttered.

"Then shall we go higher?"

Automatically, Dean tensed, but he fought hard not to panic. Of course Cas would want to go higher; this was like training wheels for him. Boring. And one of the promises Dean had made was that he'd give it a fair go. (Cas'd had his sadface on, what could he do? It was like when Sammy was four and proudly showing off a fingerpainting from school - anything that wasn't just as enthusiastic would've crushed him.) So Dean forced himself to breathe normally and pretended he wasn't shaking. "Yeah, sure. Just - slow?"

Cas leaned over and kissed his jaw. "I promise."

The tips of his wings flickered in Dean's view as they flapped, bringing them higher, and Castiel kept on running his fingers under Dean's waistband, tracing circles on his skin and keeping him warm against the chilly wind. It should've been icy, and later Cas would explain that using his grace to secure Dean was only part of it, that the cocoon of energy kept them warm too, but for now all Dean knew was that they weren't popsicles, and Cas was warm against his back.

It was frickin' hard to keep his eyes open; Cas was taking them up higher and higher, higher than it should be _possible_ to fly without hitting the moon, and Dean swore he was going to hurl. Every time he felt it coming, Cas would lean over to whisper to him and smooth his hands over Dean's torso and down into his pants, brushing away the nausea like it was dust, and Dean relaxed - deep-down relaxed, right through muscle and down to bone - and after a while it was almost not horrifying. He looked down.

They couldn't possibly be over the lake anymore. He couldn't even _find_ the lake - it was all shadows and red-lit trees and a few glinting wiggles that had to be rivers, so he guessed it was far behind them. The sky was going from red to purple to black in the distance, and anyone looking up wouldn't have a hope of seeing white wings and a freaked-out passenger - they'd be more like a star. Cas' grace was slowing the wind to a breeze that wasn't howling in their ears, so it was quiet. There were no birds this high, or planes in this area, nothing to break the peace.

So maybe this flying thing wouldn't kill him after all. He could handle it. Maybe. At least, if Cas kept doing _that_.

Cas was full-on stroking him now, and he was hard as a rock. He was getting sweaty and the air they glided through left just enough of a chill on his nose and neck that it was it was turning him on higher instead of killing the mood. Dean bent his knees and curled them backwards, resting the toes of his boots on the backs of Cas' calves and running them up and down. Cas made a warm noise and dipped his head down to kiss Dean's neck. He ran his tongue along Dean's jawline. Dean gripped both his arms and felt his breath speed up again, this time for totally different reasons. He rolled his hips back and up into Cas', and no surprise, he was hard too.

He kept one arm locked on Cas' and used the other to unzip his jeans and reach around behind him to loosen Cas' belt. "You're watching where we're going, right?"

"I will stop us before we hit a mountain."

Then he ran all five fingers quickly along Dean's shaft and Dean groaned. " _Don't_ stop."

He had to twist his shoulder at a hard angle to reach Cas' belt. Once it was free the loose buckle smacked against him but got pinned between them as Cas rolled his hips forward, pushing himself into Dean's hand. The trenchcoat fluttered around both of them. Dean kept his hand behind his back, wrapped his fingers around Cas' cock and slowly pulled it up and down.

Cas groaned and thrust against him, hard, grinding against the back of Dean's jeans. Dean's hand got pinned between them, but if he was squeezing too hard Cas didn't complain, just tightened his arm around Dean's torso and pumped him harder. Dean tried to keep a slow pace, thumbing the slick flesh until Cas was leaking onto his hand, but his breath caught and his hips rolled and suddenly their hands and hips were all rocking at the same pace, getting more and more frantic, back-forth-back-forth-back-forth...

Their smooth flight had shifted, become more like the roll of a boat on the water, and Dean craned his head. They weren't gliding anymore; Cas was flapping his wings in time with their hands - up-down-up-down-up-down - and against Dean's back his body thrummed with the power of the wingbeats. They were flying in lazy zig-zags, getting slowly higher with every flap, and when Dean closed his eyes this time, it wasn't out of fear.

He was short of breath; Cas was panting on his neck. The skin of his face and arms was icy but the space between them was hot and sweat was pooling in the small of his back. Cas' shirt was sticking to him. His hips rolled in time with their hands and Cas' wings, rubbing his ass against Cas just as he moved forward and they both stroked each others' cocks, faster and faster, slipping and missing and rough and too dry, but _fuck_ it was good and Dean couldn't tell if they were going to come at the same time but he was close- close- faster, Cas, come on, man, _faster_ -

And then Cas gasped and jerked into his back, shooting a hot line up Dean's lower back, and Dean was about to groan in frustration - _come on, come on, almost there..._ \- but Cas arched his back, arched both of them back, and for a moment Dean was looking straight up at the stars in total stillness and silence. Not even a wingbeat.

Then they plummeted.

"CAS!" Dean screamed. "CAAAAAAS!"

Oh _crap_ they were falling _falling_ _FALLING_ and down- oh _shit_ that was coming up fast and land- down- shit- Cas-! _CAS!_

Cas's arms tightened around him and his wings flapped, just once, the sound was somehow different-

And they were standing on the ground back where they started by the edge of the lake, the Impala parked behind them.

Dean crashed to his knees and almost faceplanted in the soil, panting with icy terror in his bones, heart pounding hard against his ribs, hard-on totally lost to trembling. His hands shook in the damp dead leaves and he couldn't suck in any air. Dimly, he noticed Cas kneeling next to him, felt a warm hand rub soothing circles on his back, and felt those huge wings wrap around him, clean and soft and _safe_. It helped. Took a few minutes, but it helped. Dean's breath slowed, he started to feel warmer again, and his insides stopped feeling like jello. He leaned into Cas who was curling over him, saying something - apologising, Dean realised - and drawing Dean in like a child, letting his head rest on his lap.

Only, his pants were still open.

Dean laughed. He couldn't help it, he laughed. He laughed so hard tears started leaking from his eyes, laughed because otherwise he'd cry, and when he sat up Cas was looking bewildered but relieved. "Are you all right?"

For some reason that just made him laugh harder. He reached out and dragged Cas over, kissed him, and a few seconds later had him on his back on the damp, grainy, _solid_ , _safe_ ground. His wings stretched so far that they touched the water on one side and the Impala on the other. Dean just ground into him, relishing that there was _something there_ to push against, pin him against, and Cas indulged him, still whispering apologies between kisses. Dean jerked his hips faster, one foot braced against a tree trunk, and some pine needles fell down into his hair and Cas' face. When he finally came, he came over both their shirts and groaned, digging his fingers into Cas' arms.

He closed his eyes against Cas' neck and listened to his heartbeat slow down. His lungs stopped aching and he could hear the lake water lapping on the bank. Cas threaded his fingers through Dean's hair. "I am so sorry, Dean."

"Yeah..." Dean let out another breath and tried for light-hearted. "Well, we know I'm just that good."

Cas rolled his eyes and made his _I am so done_ face and Dean laughed again, quieter this time. He rolled off onto Cas' right wing and settled there, looking up at the stars that were comfortably far away and not bothering to take his fingers out of Cas' sweaty hair. He'd never call this cuddling - wings weren't arms, they weren't making doe-eyes like in a chick flick, just resting - but it was peaceful, and warm, and after a while he said, "Hey Cas?"

"Hm?"

Dean shuffled, looking from the stars to the feathers by his cheek, closed his eyes and breathed them in. "Maybe, uh... maybe we could try this again sometime. You know, maybe. If we're careful."

The look that got him was so worth it - Cas smiled like the sun had come out just for him. He didn't get soppy, just nodded. "I'm sure we can find an effective balance."

"Could take a few tries," warned Dean. "You know, too much, too little."

"I am willing to practice diligently if you are."

Dean chuckled.

 

Practice does make perfect. It took a few weeks, a couple of bruises and a few panic attacks, but once it worked it _worked_ , and once it became normal for him and Cas to take off on their own at night for hours... well, Sam never _could_ look at the stars the same way again.


End file.
